Highlander: Death Wish
by Gune
Summary: An OC driven tale of a young man thrust into the life of the immortals by a vicious crime syndicate.


**Disclaimer: ****Highlander created by Gregory Widen and Davis/Panzer Productions**

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**HIGHLANDER**

**Death Wish  
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**A Drakoneasho Studios Production**

**Written By: Gune**

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Chapter One**

** THE AWAKENING  
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_I hated life._

_Hated everything about it._

_Why?_

_Too many reasons and too few words to answer._

_Yes it involved a girl._

_Of course it did._

_What man's story doesn't?_

_No._

_She's not dead._

_But like I said at the start of this._

_I wished I was._

_Why?_

_It should be obvious by now._

Pure white light. Blinding. Burning. Pure white light covered his vision for an eternity. Longer still was the time it took for each vivid image that wavered into the light to fade away, engulfed by the shadows of memory.

A searing heat burned from the center of a young sweaty adam's apple lacing out to the left and right across caramel colored flesh. Heat born from cold bone-cutting steel hovering mere centimeters from the throbbing thyroid. Lightning flashed, thunder clapped, rain fell, and in these final moments a past life and a past death materialized once again into the mind of an immortal.

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**Hollywood, Florida: November 20, 1986**

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The insignificant sound of pages turning echoed silently across the aisle. The bus engine combined with the ambience of Hollywood, Florida made the young man's book reading an almost inaudible spectacle. Though it didn't matter as no one paid the man any mind anyway. This is what the young man preferred. To be left alone and drift along the sea of life unnoticed and undisturbed. However, some interactions although rare, were sometimes unavoidable. As the young man turned another page, a small boy glanced up from the bus seat beside his father. His small eyes took in the colorful cover of the book and his ever learning mind prompted a question.

"Hey mister? What'cha readin'?" The boy said with a curious gaze centered on the young man.

Interacting with people had to be the one thing he hated the most. Constant interaction with people would always bring about some level of annoyance. No. Talking was the one thing he hated the most. Talking to people. Of course talking to people was a form of interaction so he figured the former was good enough.

It was so obvious that science fiction was the genre of book he was reading but of course the person to ask him just _had_ to be too young to understand. He was trapped now even if he didn't answer. No answer would bring on a continuous repeat of the question while an answer would cause a string of new questions to ensue. The kid was bored, this the young man knew and the little shit just _had_ to pick him as a target for curbing that boredom.

_That's what I get for trapping myself on a bus._

The young man chose silence as his course of action. Who knew? Maybe the kid's father would shut him up. Unfortunately for the young man the child's father was too focused on his newspaper to be bothered with sparring anyone his son's annoying wrath. Thankfully, however, the young man's stop had just come up and he quickly slammed his fingers onto the bus bell.

Bright light combined with humid heat circulated around the young man as he made his way down 53rd street. Barely anyone was out that day. Too busy gambling their hard earned money away inside the Hard Rock Casino across the street. A fact that the young man was more than happy with. Better for people to be inside ruining their lives than outside annoying his.

The young man's house, if one could refer to it as such creaked upon his entry. The small wooden shack abandoned by its previous owner filled the young man's lungs with its ever lasting stench. A stench born from decaying mold infested wood.

It suited him just fine, not bothering him in the least. He had grown used to it and knew that the awful smell combined with the dreary appearance would keep most curious types at bay. A bit tired and bored from a long day of street fighting, the young man slumped down into his home's one and only cushioned chair and lit up a Newport cigarette.

Life as always was rather pointless. Most would refer to the young man as a bum or beggar. However, the young man knew better. A bum was a hopeless person unable to sustain life on their own and so they leeched off of others in order to survive, snatching up whatever scraps people would discard. Beggars, in the young man's opinion, were one step lower as they no longer held any shame in regards to their reliance on the generosity of others and openly shouted out their own inability to support themselves, begging others for money and meals.

No. The young man never ate the discarded trash of others and he never begged them for money. What he wanted was taken through the blood, sweat, and tears of his defeated opponents. The money he gained from his victories and the side action his associate collected from fight gamblers was more than enough to keep him alive. Hell, if saved wisely, the money could be invested in several ways and increased tenfold.

This, however, was not what the young man wanted. Freedom these days, _true_ freedom was only attained by those who kept everyone else out of their lives. Even the wealthy were slaves in what was thought of as the freest country in the world. Slaves to bills and debt that at anytime could trap them if their so called wealth was ever compromised.

The young man had no bills. No debts. Barely anyone knew of his existence save the few people that happen to remember him from the fights he attends. And of course his associate who handles the side bets.

Speaking of his associate. Where was that lazy bastard? Late as usual. The young man let out a sigh of impatience while standing up from the old dusty chair. After a minute or two of pacing he found himself leaning against the back wall of his shack next to the makeshift fireplace made from several cinderblocks stacked together. As the young man exhaled his final drag of nicotine from the now depleted cigarette, his associate finally arrived.

The once bright brown wood that made up the majority of the shack had long since darkened into a dead black streaked mess that did little to attract human attention. The door creaked loudly as it was pushed open by another young man, this one a bit taller than the shack's owner. Short red hair covered his head and his bright blue eyes immediately spotted his friend, causing his lips to form a toothy grin.

"Tony!" The young man shouted. "What's up?"

Anthony Nite's stare rose from the floor to his associate, taking in the ridiculous buttoned down Hawaiian shirt he wore above a pair of casual blue jeans and blue sneakers. Anthony's own clothes being a white t-shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers were nothing to brag about. Although his black sunglasses did add a bit of mystery to him. The point was at least he didn't live up to the Floridian stereotype down to his clothes.

Anthony gave his associate a hidden glare from behind his sunglasses. "Josh. You ever heard of knocking?"

Joshua Johnson or J.J. as he liked to be called, being one of the few white teenagers who methodically watched _Good Times_ reruns while having a black friend who hated them, grabbed Anthony's right hand and shook it firmly while slapping it with his left hand.

"Tony. When do I ever knock?" Joshua smiled.

Anthony snatched his hand back, frowning. "That's my point."

"Lighten up."

"Learn to knock."

The two slumped down onto the floor near the unlit fireplace, their backs against the rotting wooden wall. They stayed like this for several minutes. Joshua seemed content with just relaxing. More so than the reason why he came.

Anthony on the other hand, his impatience always getting the better of him when measured against trivial matters such as explaining a proposition that he would most likely reject, let out a sigh of annoyance before throwing an annoyed glance at his associate.

"So you gonna tell me about this fucking job you were talking about or are we just gonna sit here on our asses until the mold decides to eat us?" Anthony snapped.

Joshua turned his gaze from the dead-bug-stained window by the front door of the shack to his friend. "Anyone ever tell you, you get unnecessarily aggravated…a lot?"

Another sigh, joined with a half growl escaped Anthony's chest. "So what you're trying to tell me is you'd rather talk about the necessity of my aggravation instead of the reason you came over here in the first fucking place." He shot Joshua a more menacing glare this time through his sunglasses. "That about right?"

"Ok, ok…" Joshua held his hands up in defeat. "Well basically it's what someone of your profession would expect."

The smirk Joshua's lips formed as he continued didn't fit right on his face and Joshua knew that Anthony knew it.

"Your reputation has traveled through the back roads into the right circles." Joshua explained.

"What circles would those be?" Anthony didn't have to stretch his imagination that far to guess.

"The rich kind." Joshua grinned. "Come on." His shirt fluttered as he stood. "Let's go meet them."

"Meet who?" Anthony felt his temper rising as he found himself talking to his associate's back.

Anthony hated talking to anyone that wasn't facing him. Usually when someone turned their back on him in the middle of a conversation Anthony would teach them a valuable lesson in manners by ramming their face into something hard. Something usually made of metal or at least concrete. Inside his home the only concrete available were the cinderblocks that made up his fireplace so Anthony resigned himself to waiting until he caught up with Joshua outside.

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**Abandoned Mall: Roof**

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Many failed businesses were scattered throughout the streets of Hollywood. One in particular, a large white structure that once served as a bustling center of commerce, now decayed slowly against the winds of time. Atop this fading pile of concrete, two men conversed near the roof entrance.

"So who are these two you got for me today, Daniel?" Being straight forward and to the point was the reason he always came out on top, at least in Zheng Ren's mind that was the case. "Do they know what it is they are transporting?"

Daniel Rune, an accomplished man within the criminal underworld smirked with confidence at his employer's question. "Of course not. I'm not stupid." He ran his right hand through the thick patch of platinum hair atop his scalp and along the waves of hair on either side of his head. "Besides. We need some fresh meat. The cops have most of our people on watch." His red leather jacket, that covered a plain white t-shirt, crinkled against his body as it moved to emphasize his confidence. His tight blue jeans stretched and his black shoes clicked onto the concrete.

Zheng was not impressed. He hadn't gotten to the top by relying on strangers. Nor had he ever put the success of an operation in the hands of someone he didn't know.

That is, until he had met Daniel Rune.

"Just make sure they get it right." Zheng wore a white designer shirt that ruffled against his body's movements. A line of blue squares with a white X in the center of each square decorated the center of the shirt, its collar, and the sleeve tips covering Zheng's wrists. His blue slacks ruffled against the wind and his blue shoes shuffled from side to side as Zheng spoke. "We should have put, Denise on this," Zheng considered his previous plan of action before being persuaded to go a different route by his top lieutenant, "…but it's too late now." Zheng's dissatisfied expression grew darker for a moment as another scenario crept into his mind. "You know what to do if they mess this up, don't you?" His right thumb and forefinger rested beneath his chin, stroking the small patch of facial hair covering it.

Daniel's smirk sharpened into an intimidating grin. "Of course, boss."

A small tingling crept into the back of Daniel's mind. Suddenly the tingling intensified, becoming a near burning sensation that engulfed his entire brain. The criminal's eyebrows rose with his eyes and suddenly, his intimidating grin widened into a menacing smile.

Two sets of footsteps echoed from the stairwell behind the rusting metal door that led back into the building.

"Here they come." Zheng said calmly.

Anthony and Joshua emerged from the darkened stairwell behind the metal door onto the sunlit roof of the abandoned mall. After spotting Daniel and Zheng, who was more commonly known through underground circles as, The Baron, Joshua immediately walked over to the criminals with Anthony close beside him.

Anthony felt an immense reluctance to even listen to what either of the two men had to say upon studying the look in their eyes. The man with platinum hair in the cheap Fonzie outfit gave off the most potent vibes of mistrust. There was no way to understand why, no way to understand how, yet even though the leather jacket wearing freak hadn't even spoke yet, Anthony felt an almost uncontrollable urge to murder the man.

He felt like cutting his head off.

Daniel stepped up to the two teens, giving them both a toothy grin. "Joshua! And this must be Anthony."

_He gave that prick my name?_ Anthony grimaced, his eyes sharpening behind his sunglasses. "Skip the slick talk. I'm not interested in moving drugs."

The statement was true enough. Anthony didn't hold any particular interest in _how_ he made money. As long as it didn't involve him signing his freedoms away with some government, the methods didn't matter. However, something was urging him to hate the man in front of him. Something hidden within. Something that felt natural and at the same time foreign, almost alien. Anthony had no recollection of the sensation ever grasping him before. At least not at the moment. His mind was too focused on trying to understand _why_ he hated the man in front of him so much rather than if and when he had ever felt this way before.

Regardless of his conflicting emotions, Anthony continued. "There are only two reasons why gangs hire out so easily. One, suspicion. Two, downsizing." Anthony folded his arms. "Look I got enough problems with the cops."

A hurt frown formed on Daniel's face. "Gang?" His eyes kept their sinister glare, however, and centered on Anthony's friend. "Joshua, what have you been telling your friend here? I like to think of this as an…" The menacing smile returned. "…organization. One with little to no problems. We aren't going to have any problems," his eyes sharpened on the young Caucasian teen. "are we, Joshy?"

"What?" Joshua yelped, his voice involuntarily cracking. "No! Of course not!" His eyes narrowed as he glanced over at his friend. "Tony, what are you doing?" He hissed at Anthony before returning his terrified gaze to Daniel's intimidating glare. "Don't give me that look man! Danny I'll bring him around!" He pleaded. "Just let me talk to him for a minute."

Daniel's glare softened into an amused smirk. "Looks like his mind's made up, Joshy." He threw his arms up into the air nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it. We're just talkin' right? No commitments have been made yet."

Anthony's knuckles cracked beneath the pressure of his fists. Fists he didn't realize were clenched. "And none will be," he let out a breath then turned his back on the criminals and walked towards the exit, "I'm outta here."

Daniel resisted the urge to laugh building up inside his chest and took a step forward, holding his hand out towards Anthony. "Wait!"

Anthony sighed in annoyance while clenching his teeth as he stopped then faced the criminal once more. "What?"

The deceiving smile of a businessman spread across Daniel's face as he spoke. "I can tell it's obvious you aren't going to reconsider." The misleading charm Daniel's smile held was suddenly replaced with a heartless, murderous intent. "Let me give you this parting gift."

Anthony knew it was coming. He could feel it. He felt it the moment he laid eyes on the man with platinum hair. While the near uncontrollable urge to kill the man flowed through his mind and body, another latent sensation also dominated his emotions. It wasn't fear. It felt more like caution. A caution towards an unforeseen inevitability. Something inside of Anthony had been trying to make him realize that the same murderous intent he held towards the man was held _by_ the man he wanted to murder. Anthony didn't have to see the gun Daniel removed from the red jacket. He knew he was going to die within the next few seconds, it didn't what killed him.

And then Daniel squeezed the trigger of his nine-millimeter Berretta once concealed beneath his jacket.

Anthony gripped his chest tightly after the bullet pierced his heart and his hands were quickly flooded with his own blood. Seconds later the young teen hunched over and hit the concrete roof with a thud.

All life left him.

"Tony!" It was all the reaction Joshua's shock would allow him.

A sadistic cackle escaped Daniel's throat. "No one turns down the _Lutanics_." His amused demeanor turned to the shocked teen. "Right, Joshy?"

It took a moment for Joshua's mind to regain control over his emotions.

When it did, Joshua had only one thing to say. "You son of a bitch! You had no reason to do that!"

Daniel shrugged, nonchalant in his recent murder. "He wasn't on the level, Joshy and he's seen the Baron's face."

"So have I!" Joshua shouted through gritted teeth. "You gonna shoot me now too?"

"No." Daniel sneered. "I'm not gonna shoot you."

"Good!" Joshua growled, holding back tears. "That'll make it easier for me to stab your fucking eyes out!"

Daniel couldn't contain his enthused laughter while pulling an eight-inch blade from his jacket after putting his gun away. "That's the spirit, Joshy!"

Joshua snatched a small two-inch switch blade from his pants pocket with a look of pure hatred plastered across his face. "You're not going to get away with this!"

The two circled each other while Zheng Ren observed them from the top left corner of the roof. Joshua clutched his switchblade tightly in his right hand, holding it down low, his arm loosely hanging at his side. Daniel raised his dagger just below his chin. His hand tightly gripped the hilt and the blade extended diagonally in front of his throat and chest.

"Come on." Daniel challenged.

Joshua's knees bent slightly then he lunged at Daniel, grasping towards the criminal's right hand with his left hand and slashing towards the left side of the criminal's face with his switchblade.

Joshua really did want to stab Daniel's eyes out.

Daniel jerked his upper body back and ducked, easily dodging the teen's blade. "Watch yourself!" His lips formed a smirk as his left hand clenched into a fist. Daniel delivered painful uppercut across Joshua's chin and then slashed the young man's arm while spinning around to the left side of him.

Joshua grunted from the sting of the cut but did not relent in his attack. He turned and slashed towards Daniel's chest, narrowly missing the criminal's flesh. Fortunately for the young teen, his youthful speed and stamina paid off and he finally landed some blows in the form of his clenched fists into Daniel's gut and across his jaw. "Bastard!"

Unfortunately, Joshua dropped his switchblade in the process of pummeling Daniel.

As Daniel picked himself up from the ground his smirk returned to his face and he allowed Joshua to retrieve the switchblade. "Good, Joshy. Now let me show you how it's done!"

Zheng watched in silence as a deadly dance ensued between the two fighters.

Daniel and Joshua slashed, punched, kicked, grabbed, and sometimes, wrestled with each other. Neither letting the other get the upper hand. Although Joshua soon realized that Daniel was merely toying with him, the teen refused to give up.

Maybe the bastard would slip up.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Joshua managed through labored breaths.

Daniel, cool, calm, and collected never lost the confident smirk his face wore. "We're done here, Joshy."

Joshua frowned then screamed with rage while throwing all of his strength into a desperate haymaker towards Daniel's head.

Of course the blow missed.

Daniel ducked and delivered a hard punch of his own to Joshua's face. The _Lutanic_ Lieutenant readied himself for another attack from the enraged teen.

Joshua hunched over from the pain of Daniel's blow then tossed his switchblade from the palm of his right hand to his left. A second later, Joshua turned and lunged forward, focusing all of his rage into one final slash towards Daniel's chest.

The attempt was pointless.

Daniel's speed was blinding, his execution flawless, and his skill unmatched. His body sunk down in a rightward slant as his feet carried him sideways. His blade cut deep into Joshua's gut and slashed upwards into the teen's chest as the criminal glided forward then came to an abrupt halt.

Joshua gasped and gagged. The blade fell from his hand just before his knees hit the concrete roof. Blood splattered onto the stone roof from his mouth before his face hit the concrete and all life leaked out from the wound across his torso.

Daniel grunted, the confident smirk still plastered on his face. "Kids."

Ten minutes later, Daniel found himself under the less than pleased glare of his employer.

"This isn't exactly what I expected from you when you said you'd _handle_ everything." Zheng frowned. "This is only going to bring down more heat from the police."

Daniel leaned back, smiling at the comment as his careless cocky demeanor returned. "Don't worry about it boss. Our bodies won't end up on tonight's dead teen line up on the news. In fact, I'm sure we'll get our two new members sooner than you think. I'll have one of the girls dump the bodies."

The girls. Daniel loved his girls. Denise, Veronica, Beverly, even that crazy lesbian Jessica. Actually they were all bisexual except for Jessica. Vivian and Alexandra were the two on call today and they always arrived on time. Quickly and discreet.

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**Two Hours Later**

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Rain splashed down into a dark alley deep within Hollywood, Florida. The water droplets crashed and flattened onto a large green dumpster. It damped hundreds of pieces of metallic junk and degradable garbage. It soaked the white t-shirt and black jeans of a dead teenage boy.

Unfamiliar sensations flowed through Anthony's body. They felt almost electrical, like static shocks. Suddenly, his sunglass covered eyes shot open in shock and fear and a loud bloodcurdling scream escaped his throat.

The rain clogged his throat and he gagged then sat up, frantically looking around. "Mutha fucker!"

Long deep breaths flowed in and out of Anthony's lungs for several minutes. Finally, the teen calmed down and slowly stood to his feet.

_Ok…I got shot…right?_

Anthony ran his wet hands across his rain soaked shirt and shivered as he felt the bullet hole burnt into the fabric. Something else besides the subsiding fear fading from his chest should have been swirling around his heart. Anthony knew this. The fact that he didn't feel much of anything made him realize something.

He didn't care.

Bored, tired, and fiending for a smoke, Anthony began his long walk home in the rain. He welcomed the rain.

The rain meant less people.


End file.
